


the people's savior

by TheMandolian



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Reaver Industries, idk how to tag stuff, that's all really fdnfnjdnfndjs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMandolian/pseuds/TheMandolian
Summary: The future of Reaver Industries becomes gloomily uncertain when Reaver's own flesh and blood threatens to tear everything down for her own benefit.





	the people's savior

Her doe-eyed gaze descended to the chalice that was being gripped tightly within her grasp. She seemed to acquire an unnatural infatuation with the wine that shimmied inside the glass chalice, her lacquered nails tapping gently against it in a melodious rhythm. She had absolutely _nothing_ to lose, right? All of those gullible peasants have been caught under her saccharine assurances. They have been hopelessly deceived, enchanted by her effortless charisma. Unbeknownst to them, all of her spoken prospects for the workers of Reaver Industries were nothing more but mere fabrications. Though her tenacious mind wouldn't allow herself to revert to such childish inclinations, the innocence she possessed as a child was somehow reappearing in minuscule glints. She was diving into the depths of the ocean without knowing if she was going to be able to come up to the surface again.

_Well, she **did** know how to swim, didn't she? She **would** be able to navigate herself through these unpredictable waves, wouldn't she?_

The heels of her leather boots clicked against the pavement as her expression quickly switched from a slightly worried one to one of a fierce authoritarian: sharp feline gaze, pursed lips, and arched eyebrows. She was beginning to enter the spotlight. She was entering the radar of the workers who stood proudly beneath the balcony-like platform, awaiting their beloved liberator. They were frantically waving around handmade signs; she caught sight of various ones that read . . . 

_REAVER INDUSTRIES MUST DIE!_

_AMELIA ESTELLE IS THE STAR THAT WILL LEAD THE WAY_

_WE HAVE BEEN SET FREE AT LAST!_

A smug smirk crept upon the woman's burgundy lips as a surge of confidence rushed through her veins, causing her stride to become more courageous. With her drink still in hand, Amelia slowly sauntered towards the metal bar, her autumn orbs twinkling with amusement as her gaze roamed across the courtyard. The people's cries of pure exhilaration filled the crevices of silence (if there ever was) as they caught sight of their so-called savior. The woman who had promised them an improved quality of life. The very woman who they knelt down to as if she were a _god._

The dark-haired woman lifted one finger while dramatically turning her head to take a small sip from her chalice, her carefully calculated actions practically commanding the undivided attention of her subordinates.

All who were once cheering boisterously immediately dissolved into nothing but _pure silence._

Amelia smacked her lips together theatrically and let out a satisfied "Ahh..." before turning her head back towards the workers beneath her, an eyebrow quirking as she began to speak in a tone that was intricately blended with both dominance and false compassion.

"My _dear citizens!_

How I have _longed_ to gaze upon your beloved faces! I assure you all that it has truly been my honor leading you to a place of salvation. I could _not_ think of a more eligible ringleader to bestride this beguiling circus show!" She let out an exaggerated giggle as her wrist flicked rapidly, causing her handheld fan to snap open. She began to slowly fan herself, her voluminous dark tresses dancing upon her shoulders. A delicate hand was placed on the metal bar as her nails lightly tapped against it. 

"As I look around, I see your disheveled garments, your soot-covered faces, and your somber eyes. I see that your once ambitious spirits have been ripped away from you. Your precious value as human beings has been mercilessly _mutilated._ The lacerations which inhabit your poor souls have been left untreated, and as a result, you have been destitute of prosperity. . .

. . . and _that_ is the fault of the godforsaken _Reaver Industries!"_

A series of raucous booing erupted from the crowd, with some flailing their arms around angrily at the mere _mention_ of the business. A single lift of Amelia's finger was more than sufficient to pacify them.

"But, _alas!_. . . Reaver Industries is _no more!"_

The woman thrashed her arms out dramatically, causing some of the remaining wine to spill over the brim of the glass, splattering onto the pavement. She pursed her plump lips into a viperine grin as the crowd immediately burst into a cheerful commotion. With the large assembly's cries of delight occupying the atmosphere, the woman's heart swelled with overwhelming pride and she couldn't help but let out an exuberant chuckle. This felt exhilarating! Simply **exhilarating!** These people practically dropped down to their knees at her every word, at every mere gesture she made! Her ego was a willing victim of gluttony: its hunger was insatiable, it just keep on eating and eating. And no matter how much it had consumed, it always craved _more._

"And those who have _oh so lovingly_ labeled me as a treasured savior. . " Amelia rested her hand upon her chest whilst putting on a flattered expression, ". . . Please continue to do so as I work diligently to dismantle the horrid practices of this _atrocious_ establishment and assure that you all will receive the ample compensation you deserve!" Those lies seemed to flow effortlessly from her lips, seemed to be wrapped in such sweet tenderness that they almost appeared genuine. 

The people's cheering grew _louder._ More boisterous. More enthusiastic. Some were even bursting into tears of happiness while others dropped down to their knees and starting screaming out praises of gratitude and pure alleviation.

"Go on, my little birds. . . 

You have been liberated from your rusted cages."

The woman casually lifted the chalice up to her lips, savoring the satisfying burn of the alcohol which engulfed her throat. Her long eyelashes fluttered as her focus then descended to the wine stain she had left on the ground moments before. A sudden chill came over her. 

_The deep hue of wine was **so** similar to that of blood._

_What if that was her blood that was spilled if this revolution didn't succeed?_

Oh, what was she even telling herself? Of _course_ it succeeded! She already had plans! _Major_ plans! Plans that had already been envisioned and written out in extensive detail! Plans that were well on their way to being realized!

The handheld fan waved around more forcefully as Amelia's gaze fixated back onto the peasants that were nothing but a mere pawn to her. The route to her authority. She giggled and it sounded like a _gun._ A gun whose bullet pierced through the happiness of the crowd, the bullet which left a haunting scar on the workers' hopeful expectations as her dulcet tone muttered out,

"You all are bound to fly _desperately."_


End file.
